BOB DYLAN, THE GRATEFUL DEAD : ICONS OF THE ‘60S PAIRED ON TOUR

Almost exactly two years after hosting the U. S. half of Live Aid, ancient JFK Stadium served Friday as the site of another historic moment in rock: the pairing of two uniquely fascinating attractions, Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead.

The artists performed on the same bill a few times last summer, but this brief joint tour--which includes a July 26 stop at Anaheim Stadium--is the first time the two philosophical cornerstones of ‘60s rock have played together on stage.

The matchup couldn’t have come at a better time for the segment of today’s young rock audience that, in this 20th anniversary of the “Summer of Love,” is eager to explore the music and ideals of the so-called “golden age of rock.”

While many of the more than 75,000 fans in the stadium were old enough to have been on hand when the Dead first set up shop in San Francisco two decades ago, the majority of the Deadhead contingent was surprisingly youthful. Two-thirds or more of the crowd appeared to be under 25--many of them well under.

The parking lot outside JFK Stadium before the concert was a colorful sea of young men with psychedelic-colored, tie-dyed T-shirts, headbands and faded jeans, sometimes decorated with peace symbols. The women sported tank tops, long cotton skirts and sandals--and an occasional flower in the hair.

It’s likely that they see in the Grateful Dead a convenient way to celebrate the innocence and shared social concerns that they associate with the ‘60s--a way to break briefly from the materialism and coldness that they sense in both the music and attitudes of today.

The special treat this night was Dylan, the most acclaimed songwriter of the rock era and the man whose themes of social change cast him--even more than the Beatles--as the spokesman of his generation.

“I feel like I’m going back in a time machine,” said one excited teen-ager as he walked on the field before the concert. “It’s kinda like having a Woodstock area at Disney World or something. Just look at all these people.”

This audience thrives on the reassuring, ritualistic nature of the Dead’s concerts, and thousands sang along on every song as the sextet opened the evening with a two-hour set.

When Dylan came out with the Dead after an intermission, he could have easily continued the sing-along, campfire nature of the evening by doing a greatest-hits collection, but he didn’t play by the rules. During his 80-minute closing set, he appeared to have little interest in simply satisfying the crowd’s curiosity with another age.

The songs Dylan performed (from “Tangled Up in Blue” to the spiritually minded “Gotta Serve Somebody”) wouldn’t be unknown to his fans, but they weren’t his anthems of the ‘60s. No “Like a Rolling Stone,” no “Blowin’ in the Wind,” no “Mr. Tambourine Man.”

Grumbled one teen-age Deadhead after the show, “You’d think he do the songs people wanted to hear.”

By not simply fueling the expectations of the crowd, however, Dylan was as true to his own code as the Dead are to theirs. Where the Dead believe in helping their audience deal with the present by drawing upon the comforts of the past and the support of community, Dylan avoids such tidy prescriptions. He suggests the best way to face the future is to stay wide awake by constantly reassessing.

Where else but at a Grateful Dead concert would you expect to see a fan walking around in Philadelphia with a sign saying, “Need Ride to Cleveland “?

The Deadheads prize the music, but they also go to concerts to hook up with other Deadheads, forging a communal spirit that makes each show seem like a huge family reunion.

Indeed, many of the younger members of the crowd Friday mentioned atmosphere as being more important than the music itself when asked why they have adopted this veteran rock band so fervently. But they also find the Dead’s music more rewarding than today’s “trendy” pop acts, many noted.

There was more than a touch of gray in Jerry Garcia’s beard and hair as he and the rest of the Dead, including guitarist Bob Weir and bassist Phil Lesh, stepped on stage just after 6 p.m. and began playing their warm, rootsy music in the fluid, unhurried style long associated with the Dead.

Thousands of the younger fans on the field danced throughout the band’s two-hour set, while the older ones in the stands reminisced about earlier shows as they listened to the music. Also, not all the signs of the ‘60s were visual: The aroma of pot in the air was widespread.

After intermission, Dylan took the stage with the Dead. Though this was only the second stop on the tour, the band played the Dylan songs with an ease and grace that made them seem like part of their own repertoire. There is an extraordinary sense of communication between the band members that lets them move freely in a song without threatening the overall texture or rhythm.

The Deadheads did get a chance to whoop it up when Garcia, on pedal steel guitar, supplied some country seasoning for Dylan’s sweet ballad “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” and when Dylan went into his familiar “All Along the Watchtower.”

Mostly, however, they had to strain to make out the words to many of the Dylan songs. But Dylan has never made it easy for his audiences. He remains an artist, not a vehicle for time travel.

To summarize his work neatly into a convenient but superficial package would be a disservice to him and to an audience that somehow overlooks the complexities and the struggles of the ‘60s to simply see the rosy idealism.

No one said history lessons were ever easy.